


When Angels Fall

by VulpesVulpes713



Series: Fictober 2018 [18]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angel Lance (Voltron), Angels and Demons AU, Demon Keith (Voltron), Fictober 2018, First Meetings, M/M, based on art, klance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-21 17:30:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16580918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VulpesVulpes713/pseuds/VulpesVulpes713
Summary: Prompt:"Remember! You have to remember!"





	When Angels Fall

[Based on artwork by maxiemaxxx](https://vulpes--vulpes.tumblr.com/post/179594070272/fallen-angel-au-hes-had-the-earring-for-as-long)

 

He’s had the earring for as long as he can remember. He doesn’t know where he got it, or from who.

He’d always assumed it was something he’d found in the depths of Hell long ago: something dropped from the worlds above.

It was small, bizarrely shaped, and a dazzling shade of blue that Keith liked to think would resemble the sky of the human realm. He’d only ever seen pictures in books, though those were faded beyond comparison. And the stories he’d heard from the people who ended up in the Underlands never spoke of the sky as one specific colour, so it was hard to tell.

He could never truly believe their words anyways, seeing as Hell was filled to the brim with liars. But he’d always been curious as to what made the patrons so inclined to tilt their heads upwards in times of strife, seeking something in the dark abyss above. They wouldn’t find it there, no matter how long they looked, as their eyes would drift back down eventually, crestfallen and broken.

It made Keith even more curious about the sky, and he’d chosen to believe that the earring he wore as a pendant was a piece of it. Shattered and discarded, like most of the things that ended up here.

And he’d kept it a secret, telling no one, and waving off whatever questions were asked. It wouldn’t look good to have a demon of Hell sporting a momento from the Upper worlds, and thought he had no real clue as to where it had come from, or the meaning behind it, or even if it was as precious as he liked to think it was, Keith wanted to keep it safe.

And for years he’d done just that. But it was difficult to hide something that shone like the tears of sinners that would collect into raging rivers, and eventually Keith had had to fashion a sort of pouch in which to hide it. He would only take out the earring on nights he was completely alone, to polish or just to hold. It gave off a warmth that was unlike any of the fires Keith knew. It was a soft heat, like the stones that bordered the pits of flame in the lower divisions.

Perhaps like the sun, though again, Keith had no real idea.

Whatever the case, it was his, and it was more valuable to him than any crown bestowed to the Princes. He cherished it more than the books in his mother’s study. Or the oak that had taken root in their gardens. It was his piece of sky, and when he held it he felt elevated, able to reach heights higher that his wings were capable of taking him.

And sometimes, if he held it close to his chest and closed his eyes, he could almost hear the whistle of wind in his ears,  _feel_  the drop in his stomach as he dips and soars. And, if he focused hard enough, sometimes there’s laughter, though he’s not sure whose.

But it’s a kind sound. One that has Keith chasing after it on days where his duties prove exhausting.

He can never catch it, or find its owner, but he knows, somehow, that he’s heard it before. Like a memory…or maybe a dream.

Either way, it’s always out of reach, like trying to catch smoke with his fingers, or hearing convicts beg for forgiveness.

It’s a wish, and it’s not obtainable, no matter how hard he tries.

That doesn’t stop him though, and it’s on such an occasion, alone in his room with the earring in hand, that he thinks he may actually have a chance.

He’s close. Closer than before. The laughter rings clear in his ears, joyous, innocent,  _familiar!_  But he can’t place it. He can’t see it. He just feels the overwhelming bliss that accompanies it.

 _“Where are you?”_ he asks in his head, thoughts projected outwards as his hand tightens around the earring.

He doesn’t expect a response. There’s never  _been_  one before. So of course he’s rightfully startled when a voice answers.

 _“ **Remember** ,”_ it urges, and it’s familiar as well: bubbly and child-like. _“ **You have to remember!**_ ”

 _“Remember what?”_  he thinks back, clenching his fists now as the laughter fades. The voice returns, somber and aged, and with a reluctance that has tears springing unbidden to Keith’s eyes, despite it being only one word.

_“Me.”_

And then it’s gone.

Everything is gone.

He gasps for breath, eyes opening as the wet streaks on his cheeks evaporate into steam. And there’s a pain in his chest that he can’t quite explain: a sense of  _missing_  that has him staring down at the place his heart should be and wholly expecting to see a gap.

But instead of a gap there’s a softly glowing rune etched into his skin. Keith blinks until his vision is clear, and frantically pulls away the fabric of his shirt to better see.

He can’t tell what it is, so he stands, and runs over to the nearest reflective surface. And when he does he frowns, tracing his fingers over the imprint on his skin as the remaining light ebs away, leaving him with a tattoo of what appears to be a long pointed pole with ornate wings jutting from the daggered end.

It looks like a spike: something they would mount heads upon in the times of old when Hell was a less organized institution. But as Keith leans closer to the mirror, he gets a sense that that’s not what this is.

It’s more refined. More detailed. It’s a weapon, but it holds a different purpose.

A javelin, maybe, or a-

“Lance-”

He speaks the word out loud, and immediately a swirl of blue light engulfs him.

It’s disorientating, and pummels Keith with a force that he’s not used to managing. His wings can’t extend. His footing is lost. And he’s sent upwards in a dizzying spiral of blinding shine, only able to shut his eyes as the scream is torn from his throat.

And just when he thinks he’ll be ripped apart and found scattered across the Underlands, it ends.

It’s still.

There’s something solid beneath him. Soft, though somewhat spikey.

And when he peaks open his eyes he finds it to be green.

A brilliant shade of it, expanding for what feels like an impossible amount of area. And there’s a hum in the air. Though it’s different from the constant buzz of distant yelling that Keith is used to. It’s gentle. Warm and calm.

But that feeling doesn’t last long, as his eyes finally make their way upwards, expecting darkness, almost  _praying_ for it.

And he falls back in shock as blue conquers his sight.

Blue.

So  _much_  blue!

Just like the earring, which he hastily searches for around his neck, only finding a brief moment of solace when he feels it still attached.

Because the worry is back. The fear, the confusion.

He’s not supposed to be here. It’s forbidden. It makes no sense.

But there’s no denying it, because the world above him in blue.

And Keith can only stare in bewilderment up at the sky, wondering how in the Hell he ended up in the human realm.

Wondering who summoned him here.

Wondering how he can get back.

The mark on his chest pulses, and Keith stares down at it as a soft light fills the lines once, before fading back to black.

And suddenly all he can wonder about is the name that springs into his mind, loud and demanding attention, surrounded by a laughter Keith thinks he once knew.

_Lance._

Now if only he could remember who that was.


End file.
